Seasons of Love
by angel718
Summary: REWRITTEN. Measure your life in love.
1. 9 PM, EST

**Author's Note: This story has, in fact, been up before, but in going back and reading over a bunch of my old writing, I decided that I really didn't like it. I was stuck in a rut, and I had no idea how I was going to get to where I wanted to be. And so I decided that a complete revamp was necessary. I still wanted an OC fic up, but my original Nia and her many problems were giving me a _lot _of grief. I know this chapter's kind of short, but I promise that it will improve (and be far less melodramatic that the original). Please review, and you all know that RENT is the work of the late, great Jonathan Larson. Ooh, and anyone who finds the _Fiddler on the Roof _reference gets a cookie!**

"We're here!" Maureen sing-songed, hugging and cheek-kissing each of her friends with appropriately dramatic flair before dropping heavily into a chair. "Where's Markie?"

"Filming." Roger arched his eyebrows, silently asking where, exactly, Maureen had been for the past year if she didn't expect this.

She pouted. "But we're celebrating! He needs to be here!"

Joanne exchanged amused glances with Mimi, who inquired, with genuine curiosity, "What are we celebrating?"

"_Life_," the diva intoned, "and he's missing it!" She stared intensely around the table until everyone had absorbed the absolute awfulness of the situation.

"Sweetie, Mark is always filming. It's nothing new," Angel reminded her.

"I _know_." She sighed loudly. "But he doesn't usually ditch us to—oh my God!"

Joanne looked half-concerned, fully aware that the last time Maureen had freaked out like this was because she had finished the Pepsi. "What happened?"

"We can find Markie a girlfriend!" She seemed legitimately pleased with herself for thinking of this. In fact, her face fell only slightly when Roger snorted loudly. "Shut up, Roger."

"Maybe Mark doesn't want a girlfriend," Joanne pointed out logically.

Waving her off, Maureen insisted, "I'm sure he does." At this, Collins and Angel exchanged a Significant Look, and Mimi muffled her giggles in her hand. After all, he did indeed…just not anyone _new._

"Who, then?" Collins wanted to know.

"We'll find someone." She was extremely decisive. "Anybody got any ideas?"

A small light bulb had gone off above Mimi's head with Maureen's idea, and now she offered, "Maybe if I can get in touch with my friend Nia…"

"_Re_ally? Oh, my God, call her!" Maureen screeched, lighting up enthusiastically.

"I will. Tonight."

_Measure in love_

Juanita jumped as her phone rang only inches from her hand, drawing a jagged line across her sketch of her boyfriend and cursing in a strange hybrid of English and Spanish. Her brother, sitting nearby with a thick stack of comic books that he appeared dead set on reading his way through before the end of the night, looked up and laughed hysterically. Barely noticing this, she shot him a drop-dead glare and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hola chica. ¿Qué tal?"

"Mimi!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Querida, I miss you like crazy! How _is_ everything?" The two had been best friends until they had separated, and though New York and New Jersey were very close, neither had much time for a visit.

Her friend sighed dreamily into the phone. "Everything's amazing. But it would be even better if you could come for a visit."  
"Oh, my God, I would love to!" Nia beamed. "I've been dying to meet everyone...especially Roger." She finished teasingly, getting to her feet and strolling from the room when it became aparent that Enrique was fake-reading whatever crap comic he was into at the moment in favor of eavesdropping on her conversation.

"Perfect! As soon as you can would be amazing. We need to catch up. And...oh."

"Where's the catch?" Nia demanded, sensing a _but_.

"There's no _catch_," Mimi exclaimed, feigning offense and blanching as an exhausted Mark trudged through the door. _Knew I should've done this at my place._ "Es solo un idea."

"About...?"

"Un de nuestros amigos es muy solitario y estamos un poco preocupados que es deprimido o algo."

"Have you tried _talking _to him?" she suggested, pointedly continuing her side of the conversation in English so that her parents couldn't understand her.

"Sí, para...no sé. Quizás tú puedes ayudarse..."

"Meems, I don't know how I'm supposed to help _your _friend if I don't even know him. And I'm not single, either...if that's what you're going for."

"No, no, para quizás cuando hablas con él, estará más feliz. Even if you don't want to," she added lowly, for he had begun to talk to Roger and could no longer overhear, "just come. I _do_ miss you. And you don't have to do it...you don't even really have to do anything. We just figured that if he had someone new to talk to it would help." This was a lie, as Maureen had suggested finding Mark a girlfriend. Although it did make things awkward that Nia had a boyfriend, Mimi found herself suddenly yearning to see her friend, regardless of why. And if she had to tell a few white lies...Maureen would never know the difference. Right?

Of course right.

"I miss you too," Nia admitted with a loud, melodramatic sigh. "I'll come."

And that was how, roughly a week later, Juanita Estevez found herself standing uncertainly in front of a slightly run-down apartment building, in the wake of a very...exhaust-fume-y...taxi and surrounded by bags. She had called her cousin's home phone, but gotten her answering machine. As she hadn't told Mimi the exact date of her planned arrival, she supposed she deserved this. (Although in her defense, Mimi knew it would be soon...) An attempt at Mimi's cell yielded only a trip to voice mail. "Damn," she muttered, flipping her cell shut with a satisfying click. "Should've gotten someone else's number." She'd meant to do it, too, just so that something like this _wouldn't_ happen, but she'd forgotten. Sighing, she dragged her bags closer to the complex and settled in for a nice, long wait.

**Spanish translations.**

**Hola chica. ¿Qué tal? Hey girl. What's up?**

**Es solo un idea. It's only an idea.**

** Un de nuestros amigos es muy solitario y estamos un poco preocupados que es deprimido o algo. One of our friends is very lonely and we're a little worried that he's depressed or something.**

**Sí, para...no sé. Quizás tú puedes ayudarse. Yes, but...I don't know. Maybe you can help him.**

**No, no, para quizás cuando hablas con él, estará más feliz. No, no, but maybe when you talk to him, he'll be happier. **


	2. We'll Get Along Fine

**AN: Having gotten plenty of hits on this story (even though I'm kind of disappointed that I only got one review--which was amazing, and I'm very grateful), I decided to update. I'm not going to give any ultamatims or anything, but I'd like to get at least 3 reviews before my next update. Oh, and there are some sneaky song references in here. Fun. :)**

In a convenient fashion better befitting, say, a movie or a Broadway musical than Real Life, Mark happened to be wandering home at roughly this time, after a few hours of aimless filming. The exciting topic of Mimi's friend Juanita had been the subject of many conversations for the past week (particularly from, in Mark's confused point of view, an almost indecently excited Maureen—how Joanne didn't take issue with this, he was unsure), thus making her recognizable even from far away. Her thick, curly hair and petite frame didn't hurt matters. Actually, he mused, she looked a little like Mimi. "Hi," he called out, rushing toward her in his anxiety to prevent her from being robbed. (It wasn't as though Alphabet City was the best of neighborhoods, after all.)

She jumped. "Um...hi. You're Mark?" She remembered Mimi's descriptions, which he fit to a tee—camera included. It had to be _some_one Mimi knew, anyway, or he wouldn't be acknowleging her this way.

"Yeah. You're Juanita, right?" As he approached, he noticed that her eyes were a shade of violet previously only ever seen on Elizabeth Taylor. He wondered if it was real.

"Nia." She held out her hand, smiling, and he took it.

"Nice to meet you," he replied, and after she reciprocated, "Mimi's at work, sorry. We didn't know you were coming tonight." He looked so apologetic that she laughed.

"It's no big deal," she assured him, still grinning. "It's not like I gave anyone any notice."

"Okay. Um, you probably shouldn't stand on the street at night...especially with your stuff."

"Oh, wow, right." She palmed herself on the forehead, rolling her eyes at her own lack of common sense.

He smiled uncertainly. "It's okay. You can come up with me...we're right above Mimi's place anyway, and she'll probably come by after work."

"Right. Thanks." She allowed him to pick up one of her bags and followed him up the stairs to his door.

"Dammit," he muttered suddenly, reaching into his pocket and coming up empty-handed. "Roger!"

"What?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Let us in. Left my key on the table."

"What, you and your camera are an _us_ now?" Roger teased as the door swung open. "Oh. Hey."

"Hi," she replied casually, running her fingers through her hair and picking up her bag again.

"Juanita, right?"

"Nia," she corrected automatically, smirking. This was going to get so old.

He backed up to let her in. "Mimi's at work."

"So I hear. It's okay." She looked at him dead-on, not bothering to be self-conscious. "I'll be out once she gets back."

"Okay." He shrugged, letting Mark help Nia lug her stuff into the loft.

"Charming, Rog," his roommate commented, and Roger managed to inquire,

"Want anything?"

"No thanks." She sank into a nearby chair. "You play the guitar?"

As he had been reaching for it, this was a dead giveaway. "Yeah." Violently, he scratched out a few lines in his notebook and strummed a random chord.

"That's cool," she replied lightly, trying not to feel hurt from Roger's sort-of snub. She had the impression, though, that he just wasn't very good with strangers.

"So...um..." Mark tried unsuccessfully to think of something to talk about. Anyone other than him, he reflected sourly, would have been a lot better than this. Well, anyone besides Roger, anyway. She turned around, curling up in her chair. "How come you decided to come today?"

"Honestly? I was packed, and I had nothing better to do." Roger snorted, and she shrugged, casually settling back into her chair. She was sketching again when Mimi clambored in through the window, so deeply absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't notice her friend until Mimi screeched her name.

"MIMI!" she squealed, jumping to her feet to embrace her friend. "Oh, my God, you look _so good!_"

"_Querida_, I didn't know you were coming today! I would have taken off to get you!"

"I didn't know, either," she commented, releasing Mimi. "How was work?"

"Alright," she shrugged, sinking gracefully into Roger's lap and appearing to fold slightly into him in exhaustion. She stifled a yawn.

"Honey, you look exhausted," Nia noted, arching an eyebrow.

"Hmm…" Mimi admitted. She wasn't exactly looking forward to the trek back to her apartment with Nia's stuff, but it was probably better to get it over with, she mused. So she kissed Roger briefly and got to her feet with effort. "C'mon. Let's move your stuff downstairs."

"We'll help," Mark offered, even though there really wasn't that much of it.

"You don't really have to…there are only a few bags," Mimi protested.

"You're about to fall asleep," Roger pointed out. "You're not carrying anything." Nia smiled surreptitiously at Roger's previously undemonstrated sensitivity.

"Wait…" she objected as Mark grasped the handle of a suitcase. "I can…"

"No, it's fine. Trust me," he added, as she made to speak again.

She gave in with a sigh and a "Thanks," which Mimi noted with a sly little smirk as she led the way down the stairs.

After Nia's stuff was safely packed into Mimi's tiny closet, the girls got changed and climbed sleepily into Mimi's bed. "Just like old days," Mimi mused delightedly.

"Yeah…" she replied, sighing. "I've really missed this."

"Me, too." Mimi flipped onto her side and surveyed Nia amusedly. "Mark seems to like you, _chica._"

"Shut _up_," Nia ordered, scrunching down beneath the covers. "Would you like to hear the issues that I take with your comments?" Used to Nia's ridiculous banter, Mimi just giggled, and Nia launched into her attack. "A," she began, holding up a finger, "we just met. B—" another finger, "there's the small matter of my boyfriend."

"But did you notice what order you put those in?"

She glared evilly at Mimi. "Rob and I have a fantastic relationship, thanks very much. Sorry, but it's not happening."

"Oh, fine." Mimi mock-sulked for a moment before asking, "What's he like?"

"Amazing." Nia closed her eyes to picture her handsome lover for a moment before replying. "Rob's the kind of guy who makes you feel wanted right when he sees you, you know? He makes you feel like the only person that matters in the middle of a crowded room." She paused. "_Ay, Dios mio_…I cannot believe I just said that!"

Mimi's lips curved up. "I know how it is," she replied with a contented sigh. "It's a fantastic feeling, even if it sounds ridiculous. Speaking of…what do you think of Roger?"

Having not had much experience with the rocker, Nia merely offered, "We'll get along fine, _chica_."

"Good." Mimi yawned softly, curling up as her eyes slowly closed. "_Buenas noches. Te amo._"

"_Te amo_," Nia whispered.

**Spanish: **

**Ay, Dios mio: Oh, my God.**

**Buenas noches: good night.**

**Te amo: I love you.**


End file.
